What are the five words every home owner doing major renovations wants to hear from their general contractor?

::jeopardy music::

:: ::

:: ::

:: ::

:: ::

:: ::

Answer:

WE ARE AHEAD OF SCHEDULE.

Weeeeeeeeeeeee!

Paint should be finished up tomorrow, and flooring is scheduled on Monday. They should be able to punch it out in about five days, which means Appliance Day (i.e. May 10) is still ready to go! So exciting.

And the paint colors are gorgeous. The Bear and I stopped by today to say "hola" to the crew and check out their work. Most people would probably call it brown, but I'm thoroughly enjoying knapweed, star thistle, tranquil, and my personal favorite, swiss coffee. (shout out to Sarah O for that great recommendation!!). Our guest room downstairs is a lovely steely blue, and the bathroom adjacent to it is one shade darker. Interestingly, the good people at Frazee paint call that color "Gotham," leading Brian and I to giggle uncontrollably at all of the Batman jokes we made. ("This is the bathroom we deserve, but not the one we need," he quipped. Also, "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself poop in your pants.") Ah, childish humor.

All of our plumbing needs have been taken care of, and now I just need to finalize a few last details. I think we might be done shopping. Thank goodness. I may freeze the credit card in a block of ice to prevent any more spending sprees.

I can't wait to see the finished product...I have pictures in my camera and will try to post them tomorrow.

I feel as though I've been whining a lot lately...whining that we didnt' get the house fast enough, and now that we have it, it's going too fast. I know I have a low tolerance for whining (whether it be my own or someone else's) so I need to clarify that. And apologize for it.

Please know, more than anything, we are absolutely thrilled about the house. In fact, I just received the in-lay drawing from the designer and it's nothing short of magnificent. Trust me, I feel so lucky that we are able to do this and this house is becoming a reality. Especially in an economy where people are struggling to just find and keep jobs, bemoaning appliance shopping, as I'm starting to realize, is the equivalent to "I just can't gain weight!" Not a whole lot of sympathy for either parties.

So, sorry about all of the stream-of-conscious rants as of late. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, our credit card continues to hold its shape despite the heat its been feeling, and our contractors and workers are showing up on time (for the most part). I'll try to keep my belly-aching to a mi

So with these major purchases going on (and Citibank calling us daily to make sure no one has stolen our credit card), I have been watching our bank accounts online like a hawk. Imagine my surprise when $400 came up unaccounted for.

I'm not winning any points for reasonable responses these days, so my reaction was a little...over-the-top. To say the least.

And in the proud tradition of every crazy wife who watches her husband trot off to New Orleans for a bachelor party weekend, I immediately jumped to conclusions and accused Brian of blowing the budget on...er, entertainment.

"You were at a strip club while I -" sniff, sniff - "languished at the house, dealing with the security guy, the internet guy, and the painters!" I wailed to him last night. "And to think you spend money on this! Our HOUSE money! It's like...like, glitter in the wound!"

Oh yes, I was in fine form last night.

After several HOURS of discussion, Brian was able to reassure me where exactly the money was spent (think: cab rides and cocktails.) I'd like to think we were in a better place when the dust finally settled, but poor Brian. We need to get into this house before they put me in a padded room.

(Editor's note: After re-reading this entry, I realized I wasn't clear on a few things. First, I know and accept that Brian went to a strip club - maybe several? - during his time in NOLA. No, sadly, it's not the thought of my husband looking at naked ladies that makes me upset. It's the idea that he might spend $400 doing so. Because let's face it, folks: $400 is the difference between a stainless steel, french-door refrigerator with an ice dispenser and one that doesn't. And I really like ice.)

Literally, I am covered in bruises. Between packing boxes, running into wayward items, and a little baby that has a mean right hook, it looks like I've spent several rounds in the boxing ring. Scotty, aka little Bam-Bam, is turning into quite a heavyweight. I don't know if it's the flaxseed I'm mixing in his Greek yogurt or the 1/2 of avocado he eats daily, but this kid is growing like a weed. And becoming freakishly strong.

And then figuratively, this house stuff is starting to wear on me...it's just such a huge project. And while everyone knows I love a good project, it's the alacrity in which decisions need to be made that is putting me over the edge. I had a dream last night that the flooring company picked a black grout to compliment our Emperadora Torino Adamello tile. (that is a fancy way of saying...beige.) But in my dream, I kept saying to the designer, "It's okay, you're the professional...I know you know what you're doing," while I secretly freaked out. I called her this morning and told her about the dream (among other business - don't worry, it's not like I'm calling her just to chat) and she told me she had a dream a meteor was falling from the sky and about to hit our house. So, it looks like no one is sleeping well in Vegas these days.

Financially, we are doing okay, but writing these large checks is starting to make my hands tremble. I was okay paying the landscapers. Buying appliances was a little scary. I blanched slightly when we got the flooring bill, but the security bid came in under budget, so that was good. But for whatever reason, I completely lost the power of speech and was near tears at the check-out counter at Home Depot on Monday. See, our utility room is empty right now - no sink, cabinets, washer/dryer, nothin'. And me, in my wisdom, negotiated with the general contractor to put all of those items in the room. I thought I could find some pre-fab cabinets, buy a utility sink and call it a day.

Well, imagine my surprise when I got to Home Depot and realized we need to buy actual cabinets...like, real ones. The pre-fab ones were the wrong sizes, so I found myself hefting giant 36" cabinets off of the shelf while frantically dialing one of our friends who just happens to have a pick-up truck. Dave was kind enough to help me out (he even helped me tape off the ducts in the house for the tile removal), but for whatever reason, buying such large items (at a large price tag) made my heart start to pound. What are we getting into, I kept wondering. Are we biting off more that we can chew? Because, in the event you build a utility room from the ground up, please know it's not just cabinets and a washer and dryer; no, you will also need a sink, faucet, laminate for the counter top, and plumbing. When the register lit up $499.80, I almost keeled over. Thankfully, Dave was there to scrape me off the floor (and prevent the credit card from melting in the swipe-y machine) AND transport our gigantic cabinets to the new home. As I told him that afternoon, I'm fairly certain his actions have earned him a lifetime supply of Rice Krispie treats and prime seating on the new couch during football season.

The tile guys came yesterday and ripped out every single square foot of flooring in the house. The painters come tomorrow. (PaintGate, thankfully, is over. Let's just say I ended up purchasing 23 sample colors and managed to be reprimanded by the manager at the paint store. Ahh, good times). By Monday, the floor guys are back and it should take them about 5 days to get the new floors in. Appliance day is scheduled for May 10, and then after that...it's moving time. We could move the weekend of the 15th, but in a random twist of fate, Brian has a trial starting on May 17th. Mind you, Brian hasn't been in trial in six years. But the weekend we can move - a move that has been three years in the making - he has a trial. Ah, universe, you confound me.

So, the big day(s) is (are) scheduled for the weekend of May 29. In the meantime, enjoy some pictures from yesterday's destruction:

(**editor's note: this entry was started on Friday morning. Ultimately, it was finished on Sunday night.)

As I sit and type this, I am home alone right now.

As in, no one else is here.

The silence is deafening. And I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

Brian took today off of work since he is flying out tonight for a bachelor party in New Orleans. He and the Bear headed off to baby gymnastics, since he had never been, leaving me home to sit and think. And listen to my quiet house.

There is no breathing on the monitor. No one shaking toys or rattles or babbling on the rug. There is no sound at all, except the hum of the computer.

I'll admit, I'm a little creeped out. After all, I haven't had the house to myself since, well, probably the bed rest days. Which seriously feel like several lifetimes ago. Gosh, the days when I just laid on the couch, eating brownies and blogging about the Bachelor. I guess you could say I still do that now (although I'm trying to cut out the brownies), it's just squished in between diapering, feeding, playing, and loving on a little Bear. And a really great husband.

I admit, I'm going to miss this house. In that typical fashion where you suddenly love the thing that you most detested because you are leaving it for something bigger and better, I've found myself getting a little sentimental. I mean, this is the house that we came home to the night Brian proposed. It was my birthday, and in between calling friends and family to share the good news, I remember opening my Kitchen-Aid mixer that my grandma had sent. Emma, curious as ever, stretched the length of the box and darn near tried to crawl in.

My grandma died in January 2007. Emma passed away in 2009. I miss them both terribly.

Our kitchen was home to my numerous protein shakes consumed before our wedding. (now, it mainly houses ginger cookies and a bottle or two of good red wine). Our master bathroom was the place where I first saw two pink lines - and then promptly ran into the bed room to inspect the test in the sunlight. Then I took a picture of it and analyzed it on the digital camera. Then I cried. And then I called Brian.

(who, of course, did not answer his phone).

And if you walked a little further down the hallway, you'd find the room that Scotty lives in. If walls could talk. Probably my most salient memory of that room is the night we came home from the NICU right after he was hospitalized -- it was completely silent. And I remember wanting to tear my hair out. I was so exhausted on the way home that I had fallen asleep in the car (it was after 2am when we finally got home) and instead of crashing, my brain started racing when I walked into the nursery that night. The sheer terror of everything we had experienced over the last 12 hours came slamming into my conscious, and the reality of our situation hit me. We could lose the Bear.

Instead of pulling my hair out, I did the next best thing: I deconstructed one of the floral arrangements we had been sent. (I'm fidgety, I know). I took a single white rose out of the bouquet and laid it on the table near the glider. Over the next four days, it slowly dried but never lost its original shape. When little Scotty finally joined us at home again, I tucked the rose in his memory box as a reminder to myself to never, ever, ever take anything for granted. Ever.

And finally, the last room in the hall on the right is our guest bedroom. This room has welcomed my parents, my sister and her husband, friends from all over the country, and my personal favorite, my friend Jen (mom to Rowan) who, while normally mild mannered, managed to yak twice in one rather raucous Vegas weekend as a result of alcohol consumption. I remember her vomiting in the toilet saying, "I think I'm pregnant!" while I shook my head and said, "No, Jen, you just drank too much."

(she is going to kill me for publicly sharing this story on the interwebs. Sorry, Jenna.)

So while the house sits quietly and I reflect, I can't help but wonder what the new house will bring...Scotty becoming mobile, that's a given. Maybe baby #2? (after we've passed the sandwich rule, of course. And for new readers, the sandwich rule is "we can have another baby when the current baby is able to accurately make himself a sandwich. And perhaps one for me as well.") Will our three-car garage ever actually hold three cars? (Brian is insistent that Scotty will have a car when he turns 16; I'm old-school and think he should wait. Until he's 31.) I'm envisioning a little vegetable garden in the backyard, maybe a swing set, but above all, a family that is happy and ready to settle in for the long haul.

The days are so full lately. So full. When did this get so hard again? I mean, I thought having a baby was hard...and then we bought a house. And then things got really interesting.

What we are essentially trying to do is something akin to 'Home Makeover: Extreme Edition." We need to pick out flooring (all flooring -- tile, carpet, fire place coverings, etc), paint, lighting fixtures, plumbing, landscaping...what am I forgetting? I don't even know at this point. I'm stuck on paint.

Paint is a pretty big deal. We have huge ceilings, which means that if we screw up the color, I can't redo it on a weekend (unless Brian wants to buy me some scaffolding for an anniversary gift). And, with the thought of professional painters at really good prices (gotta love the recession!), I am willing to say paint it all...every room, all the trim, the doors (we have 31 doors, if you can imagine), even the ceiling. But then think about trying to find one universal color in the main rooms, compliments colors in each bedroom/bath, accent colors, and then an overall trim color that matches it all...well, I'm struggling. My mind is swirling with colors like 'tranquil,' 'knapweed,' 'star thistle,' 'lulled beige' and my personal favorite, 'clinical.' If I can't be clinical at work, why not at home?

So my days are literally brimming with home stuff all day long. And since I am officially the Nap Nazi, I am forced to live my life two hours at a time.

Today looked a little like this:

6am - 8am: Brian played with Scotty while I slept (I did wake up to feed him/change him, then promptly went back to bed.)

8am: Super porridge with mango. Playtime/Today Show viewing.

9am- 11am: Scotty napped while I took a shower, emailed, washed dishes, cleaned the house, etc.

11am: Hit the road! Stops at the flooring place to pick up samples (when did 20 inch tile get so heavy??) and Best Buy to buy a new phone.

12pm: Home. Lunch time, which was cottage cheese (yum!), spinach and bananas, and some mashed potatoes.

3:20pm: On the road again! Stopped by two friends houses (one to drop off dinner [she just had a baby] and the other because she just likes my chicken salad), stopped at our new house, dropped off the samples, moved the tile three times while looking at it with a critical eye, and chatted with a new neighbor. This particular neighbor was doing yard work (hooray! Neighbors who care about the way their house looks!) and was very friendly

4:30pm: Off to Sears to buy a washer/dryer.

5pm: Fed Scotty a bottle while he was still strapped in his stroller. Spoke with our credit card company to verify my identity while burping said Bear. Bear decides to vomit on me right as I hand the phone back to Mark, the salesman, hitting both me and him. He grimaces, I cackle maniacally.

5:05pm: Mark informed me that my sweater, the one I've been wearing all day, is inside out. Without thinking, I quickly strip off my sweater, turn it around, and put it back on. Right in the middle of the appliance aisle at Sears. Mark blushed.

5:10pm: I left Sears slightly worse for the wear, but right as we hit the parking lot, I realize that we have lost Donkey.

Donkey

5:12pm: I looked at Scotty suspiciously while he batted his blue eyes at me. Did they have words? Did he chuck Donkey out of the stroller? I begrudgingly headed back into the store

5:15-5:25pm: Full-on search for Donkey commenced.

5:26pm: We find Donkey sitting on a patio table in the Garden Section. I looked around, but no one would meet my gaze. Who put Donkey on the table? Nobody puts Donkey on the table.

5:45pm: Arrived home, exhausted but with a cheerful Bear, happily nomming away on his Donkey. I knew the two of them would make up and put their differences aside.

That's about it, folks. My entire internal monologue from the last few days.

Anyways, I feel awful since some big things have been happening with the Bear. First, he is now eight months old! Such a big Bear.

Helpful Bear

I wasn't even home to take his birthday picture. Brian was on Bear-duty while I cleaned and scrubbed the cabinets at the new house. Buying a foreclosure is certainly an interesting experience...I found myself thinking about the family that lived in the house before us, and while I was scrubbing above the range. found a little bit of dried cheese stuck to the backsplash. Hmm. They had Taco Night. That made me a little sad. Do they still have Taco Night? Maybe at a smaller home?

Anyways, Scotty also hit a major first milestone...the first hair cut! We just had to do it. He had this weird Blagojevich-swirly-hair-thing going on and I just couldn't take it anymore. I really thought the whole process was going to take about four minutes since he's just a little baby and has just a little bit of hair, but it ended up taking over 30 minutes. At one point, between the clippers, the scissors, the clippers again, and then some baby hair gel, I began to wonder if we had accidentally wandered into Vidal Sassoon, but a quick chance outside reminded me that yes, we were at Snips 'n' Clips.I'm not quite sure what our 'stylist' was thinking, but the kid was seven months old...he only has so much staying power. And despite her desire to turn his hair into something more (baby hair gel? Really?), it turned out pretty good. And he did a great job handling all of the clippers, spray bottle, etc.

'Before' Bear

Eyeing all of the hair products

Cautious Bear

Okay, I changed my mind

Enduring the hair clippers

Really not enjoying this, lady

Seriously? No.

Our stylist was able to pull it together in the end and Scotty ended up with a great new 'do. He seems to like it, too.

Hi! 'After' Bear

Why yes, I am adorable, thank you.

He's such a silly little guy. We just love him to pieces.

Okay, back to my lists. I seriously have a list to organize my lists. Utilities, landscaping, flooring, appliances, paint...and we haven't even packed a box! Yikes.

A few weeks ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends (not to mention one of the funniest) contacted to let me know some scary news: her younger sister Emily had been hospitalized with a rare neurological disorder called Guillian-Barre Syndrome.

Poor Sherri sounded distraught and overwhelmed on the phone as she recounted the last few days of her and Emily's life: on the previous Sunday, Emily had complained of some tingling in her extremities. She saw a doctor on Monday who was quick to pass it off as work-out fatigue and wrote her a script for Vicodin. (ah, healthcare in America). Thankfully, Emily listened to Sherri when her symptoms did not abate and she headed to the hospital on Tuesday.

By Wednesday, she had almost full-blown paralysis of her entire body.

Currently, she is still in the ICU and on a ventilator. She is being fed via a PEG tube in her stomach.

Sherri lives almost three hours away from her sister and has been making the trip to see her on the weekends. Their parents, thankfully, live in the area and are able to visit Emily daily. It is so surreal to think that Emily, a little girl I watched grow up doing gymnastics in her parents' living room, is currently intubated and on heavy sedatives. I cannot imagine the stress the Knapp family must be under, and my heart goes out to them.

The prognosis for Emily is bright, though it will be a long road to health for her. If you would like to keep up with her treatment and progress, Sherri has created a website in Emily's honor. Stop by, leave a comment, and be sure to send them some positive vibes.

Like most stay-at-home-moms, I read mommy blogs. I write a mommy blog, so it only makes sense that I should read some, too. And there are some good ones out there -- among my favorites is babyrabies.com. (yes, it's when 'baby fever' reaches a fevered pitch and turns into baby rabies...). The author seems to have her stuff together and I relate to a lot of the things she blogs about. I am still laughing at her sleep training entry (and mentally writing my own in my head).

But today, she was a little more serious and published a link to probably the most disturbing article I've read in months. It was so disturbing that I promptly published it on my Facebook page, urging all parents to read it. Because it highlights every good parent's greatest fear: accidentally causing your child harm. Or in this case, death.

As I said on Facebook, the article is grisly. And tough to get through. But I also think it's important to bring awareness to this subject in order to prevent it from ever happening again. Because it doesn't just affect moms or dads...it could happen to grandparents, aunts, uncles, or any caregiver.

I almost never do this kind of stuff, but our photographer sent us a link to a contest for cute babies and well, I had to give it a shot.

It is the type of contest where you vote on the cutest baby -- which means whichever baby gets the most votes, wins. I have to admit, I dislike these type of contests since the actual cutest baby never wins; it's more about the parent who cajoles, coerces, and shames their friends and family members the most.

So, let the cajoling, coercing, and shaming begin...

http://www.kwnr.com/main.html

PLEASE VOTE!!!!!!!

(you can also vote on your phone, so vote once via computer and then again by phone!)